Dreamcatcher
by Shaved Knuckle
Summary: Sorrow. A sparsley populated mining planet in the inner colonies overlooked in the grand scheme of things. But the arrival of a Covenant fleet sparks off a chain of events that will make it one of the most important battles of the twenty sixth century.
1. Chapter 1: Contact

"_Sorrow, this is the From Ebony Wrought. Please say that someone is hearing this because we've got a truckload of hot shit to send and not much time to send it." _

_- _Attributed to Communications Officer Laurence Hull moments before his death.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Unnamed System  
Five hours out from Sorrow  
0130 hours Sorrow time**

A UNSC frigate is never quiet, even when it has gone to silent running. The massive engines send a hum throughout the entire vessel that eventually gets into your bones and the whispers of the crew tickle the edges of hearing. Nevertheless when Ensign Sawyer raised his voice nervously on the bridge of the _From Ebony Wrought _it was a dramatic event, if only for the break from routine.

"Uh, something's happening"

Captain Weston's head snapped around instantly, his dark brown eyes spearing the young crewman who had spoken. Within the relatively cramped confines of the frigate's bridge he did not have to move from his command chair to be practically looking over the man's shoulder.

"Ensign Sawyer, this is the bridge of a UNSC frigate, proper protocols will be observed. Now report!"

The Ensign bobbed his head and stammered out a response.

"Yes Sir! We've been pinged sir."

The Captain gestured and his second in command moved to the Ensign's terminal.

"He's right Captain. Three second burst from sector Romeo five, unknown origin."

Fingers moved across the control chair's panel and the main screen came to life, magnifying the identified sector and blowing it up until it filled the vision of every person on the bridge. Even at ten thousand times magnification, nothing was visible. Then a flicker of light and movement. Weston's experienced eyes recognised it instantly, the flare of a ship's engines activating as it began moving.

"Sir, we have multiple contacts closing on attack vectors. Moving fast. No doubt about it, they're Covenant."

The lights went down on the bridge as Weston keyed for combat alert and the hum of the engines turned to a roar as the small UNSC craft attempted to outrun the superior alien ships.

"Alert Sorrow, give them all the data our scanners are picking up in a live feed. Ensign Sawyer, I want to know how long before we are in range of the Covenant ships and how long before they are in range for effective return fire."

The crew moved quickly and two numbers superimposed themselves on the main screen. Weston grimaced. The fourteen second difference between the two meant that they would probably not even get to strike back before they were annihilated. The Covenant were closing fast, spreading out in an attack pattern that left no room for escape.

"Confirmation signal from Sorrow received sir, they know what's coming."

Weston bared his teeth in impotent rage. He had no options left.

"Bring us about, maximum thrust on an evasion vector. Set the missile bays to automatic fire and charge up the MAC gun, give me fire control."

Despite the gravity generators the force of turning the ship flung Weston to the side in his seat. Righting himself he glanced at the screen to see half a fleet of alien craft bearing down on him. Bright spots of burning blue light flared into existence as the Covenant vessels opened up at the closing human ship.

"Estimated time to impact…"

The officer never got to finish as the frigate was hit amidships and blown into scattered fragments as the nuclear reactors that powered it went critical. Captain Weston died with his finger still hovering over the fire key. The Covenant ships confirmed the kill and slipped back through the void of space like sharks to rejoin their fleet.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Sorrow  
Subspace Monitoring Station 5  
0132 hours Sorrow time**

"Holly shit."

The radio monitor's face paled visibly as he listened to the latest transmission from the _From Ebony Wrought_. After a few seconds of stunned silence he hit the alarms and all hell broke loose.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Sorrow  
Fleet Officer's Mess  
0152 hours Sorrow time**

Admiral Larkin leant back in his seat and sighed contentedly as he undid the buttons of his formal jacket. Around him other high ranking officers took this as a sign to relax and started to talk more easily amongst themselves, accepting cigars from waiters that moved along the long table. Larkin looked around him, noting the mixture of expressions on the faces of the newly promoted officers of his small fleet. These would be the men he would be serving with for the next decade or so, until the Covenant killed them all off. Two men wearing the grey service uniforms entered the room hurriedly and approached him.

"Admiral."

The saluted quickly and he acknowledged, aware that the entire room was watching to see what was going on. The second man handed over a fiche which Larkin glanced at. He didn't need to read past the first line.

"Full combat alert. Bring the fleet in close and prepare for a planetary assault."

He was standing now, dinner and promotions forgotten. At the words the men and women in the room rushed to leave and get to their posts. A full combat alert could mean only one thing. A covenant fleet had been sighted on a course for Sorrow.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Sorrow  
Orbital Station **_**'Adama' **_**Generator  
0503 hours Sorrow time**

Lieutenant Jane Gilburt ran her hand through her close cropped hair before replacing her helmet. Somewhere an alarm was beeping, but it was distant and not her problem. She bowed her head and stepped out of the shadowy entrance to the command bunker that had housed her for the last four hours, ever since the alert had come through. The road back into the city was empty and combined with a thin wind blowing in from the east; the place had a desolate feel.

"So give it too me straight LT, how fucked are we?"

She turned to see her friend, Staff Sergeant Biggs, sitting with his back to an entrenchment with a hip flask in his hand. He offered it and she accepted, it was against regulations but at this point, who gave a damn?

"Fucked doesn't even come close."

She took a long swig of the burning liquid and handed it back before sitting down next to the round shouldered man.

"Half of my command has gone AWOL looking for family back in the city or having the time of their life, my XO is off somewhere performing fellatio on a gun barrel and the god dammed Covenant are about to steamroller over us and take out the orbital cannon generator."

Biggs nodded sagely and finished his drink.

"So where do you want me and my boys?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard what she had said.

"Detail a squad or two to protect the anti aircraft quad cannons and then set up a perimeter around the main compound. Booby trap the shit out of everything, give the half jawed SOBs something to 'wort' about once they've killed us all."

He nodded and moved away, leaving Gilburt to look out over the rolling grassland again. She had done the best with what she had, god knows she had, but it wasn't much. The whole battle was a delicate game of dominos. Once the Covenant got a grip the entire planet would fall. As long as the anti aircraft Gatling cannons kept firing, drop ship insertion was impossible for the enemy. They would have to come planet-side with assault teams outside the umbrella provided by the weapons and try and fight through to them or use heavy munitions to take them out. Once this was done, surgical air strikes would take out the generator complex denying the orbital MAC cannon power. This would open a hole in the planet's defences and allow the Covenant fleet to sweep in and glass the planet. The whole game depended on keeping the first domino upright. The Gatling cannons had to keep firing.

* * *

**Authors Note: Well, what do you say about the first chapter of your first story? Ive got no idea so bear with me. **

**While I have attempted to keep this story entirely faithful to the Halo universe there are a few points where things may be a little out of sync, mainly in the dates, military jargon and with certain characters. Simply because I wanted to include them or they are so small that it shouldnt affect the story. I have a few chapters writen out and know where I am going with the plot, but constructive criticism and advice is welcomed. **

**In short, enjoy and review.**


	2. Chapter 2: Opening Moves

"_Contrary to the propaganda of the UNSC, the Covenant was rarely met with fierce resistance when they moved planet-side. The image of set jawed marines defending their objectives to the last bullet in order to facilitate civilian evacuation or damage the alien war machine is a myth spread in order to propagate the idea that humanity would never falter, would fight to the last and not go quietly into the night of extinction. Some units did make last stands in order to slow that Covenant advance, but we should not cheapen those Marines' sacrifice by suggesting that it was the norm. Far more common was an almost complete breakdown of military coordination caused by panic, by those in uniform and out. However, on Sorrow this was actually an advantage. Large numbers of troops survived the initial fighting simply because they were not where they were meant, or where the enemy expected them, to be. Later on in the conflict these soldiers would be fundamental in continuing the resistance against the alien occupiers."_

- Eric Stratton in his book **'Sorrow: Forgotten Victory'**

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Sorrow  
Combat Personnel Rehabilitation Facility (CPRF)  
0549 hours Sorrow time**

Chief Petty Officer Ryan 014 sat up in bed, the crisp white sheets falling away to bunch around his waist. He was thin, but heavily muscled with a multitude of old scars crisscrossing his body like some unintelligible map. Three men had entered his room, which was isolated in the south wing of the hospital complex where he was being kept. Two were obviously plainclothes military personnel and Ryan could tell by the way they carried themselves that they were heavily armed; a pistol or sub machinegun under the left armpit and some kind of explosive device in a holster on the right shin, possibly a flash bang or a micro grenade. The third man wore a tired working uniform that displayed a Lieutenant's ranks on his arm and ONI insignia pinned to his collar. Ryan made to salute but was waved down before he could stand.

The two bodyguards took up positions either side of the door and the Officer sat down on a flimsy plastic chair that sat in the room for that purpose. Ryan allowed himself to relax slightly, if the spook was here for him there would be a heavier guard. No matter how good they were, no two men with concealed weapons were a match for a Spartan. Wordlessly the officer handed over a file which Ryan took and flipped open, his eyes scanning the page, taking in every word.

"I don't have to tell you that this is eyes only. We're initiating an alert and beginning evacuation, but if word was to get out widespread panic would be inevitable."

Ryan nodded silently. He had been fighting the Covenant for most of his adult life. Nobody needed to explain to him how serious the situation was.

"Long story short, you are being reactivated, despite your compromised condition. We are here to escort you to the armoury and then see to your deployment. The rest of your team are outside being briefed."

Ryan nodded slowly. He had been taking orders since he was six years old and this one was no different, there was no need to question it. The spook got to his feet and Ryan followed suit, pulling on a pair of combat boots that he neglected to do up. With the two bodyguards following the Spartan was led through the rehabilitation centre and out front. The night air was bitingly cold and he suppressed a shiver, wishing that he was wearing something more substantial than a white vest. Three warthogs were at rest next to the landing pad, one of which had an older model anti aircraft gun mounted on the back.

"Chief."

A man whose physique instantly signalled him out as a Spartan spoke up. He was wearing similar clothes to Ryan's, combat trousers and a Marine Corps t shirt with dirty blonde hair that somehow managed to be unruly despite only being a centimetre longer than regulations permitted. They both nodded an acknowledgement.

"Callum, where's the rest of the team?"

The blonde haired Spartan pointed to the building where another group in fatigues was approaching over the grass. Amongst them were the other two Spartans at the rehabilitation centre, Jen and Mark. Jen was a well muscled woman with close cropped brown hair and a freckled face that made her look somewhat younger than she really was. Mark on the other hand was a barrel chested beast of a man, with chocolate eyes and skin that was just a shade darker than tan. Both of them snapped off a salute before smiling at Ryan.

"Looks like we're all here. Lets get started." The ONI officer who had come out with Ryan said briskly.

In silent agreement the four super soldiers took one of the transport warthogs, letting the ONI operatives man the armed vehicle and the point hog. The small convoy started to move, Callum letting his head fall backwards into the wind rushing past the vehicle, enjoying himself like a dog with its head out the window.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Edge of the Sorrow System  
Assault Carrier 'Whisper of Communion'  
0630 hours Sorrow time**

At the edge of Sorrow's star system the streamlined shapes of twelve Covenant battle cruisers slipped through the dark void of space. Outlying sensors and monitoring posts were destroyed almost as soon as they registered contacts. The essence of a planetary attack is in the speed of deployment. A slipspace whisper will be detected long before the attacking force arrives so even if they have remained undetected up until their final jump the attackers will be moving into a potential ambush. Therefore it is essential that once combat begins the ships move with utmost speed. Behind the screen provided by the cruisers an assault carrier and numerous other, smaller craft jumped in system. Above Sorrow, the orbital defence stations went into action.

Aboard the assault carrier, Shipmaster Mktan Wonozharee surveyed his fleet as they seamlessly deployed into combat formations and swept in towards the planet he had been sent to seize. Flexing his mandibles he observed with a hint of admiration the speed with which the human defences reacted. An all out attack was not an option, the orbital stations would break up his ships and make them easy pickings for the small, but still dangerous, fleet that waited behind them, out of range of his weapons. Making a decision he gestured to his communications officer.

"Contact the Punitive Faith, tell them to lead the attack with my blessing."

The warrior nodded and turned back to is console as Mktan used his chair controls to order the rest of the fleet to hold position. The Punitive Faith swept forwards alone as the rest of the fleet peeled away. The defence stations targeted the cruiser and sent three MAC rounds punching through it in a coordinated volley. Even as the ship died it returned fire, weapons vomiting plasma to annihilate one of the stations that had crippled it. In eerie silence the massive ship twisted and split like a piece of ripe fruit that had been squeezed in a vice. Flames blossomed up into space, writhing like living things as the atmosphere vented through the damaged hull. Mktan knew that inside his brothers in arms were dying, but he found it difficult to care. Others on the bridge turned to look at him, seeking some response that he wasn't going to give them. The sacrifice had been necessary, the warriors aboard the Punitive Faith had won them the battle with their deaths more surely than they could have with their lives.

"The way lies open, send in the phantoms, ground assault teams move to their targets, any stations left standing will be attacked by boarding teams. Seraph's are to move to defensive posture, keep their fighters off our landing craft."

There was a mumbling of agreement along the bridge and each officer moved to their task. The hanger bays opened and thousands of craft sped out, pouring through the hole in the defences left by the station's destruction. Mktan allowed himself a slow chuckle and leant forwards in his seat. Sorrow had fallen, the defenders just didn't realise it yet.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
Sorrow  
Canyon 400  
0628 hours Sorrow time**

The three warthogs moved quickly along a dirt track that wound through one of the many light forests that dotted Sorrow's surface, traversing several deep ravines that scarred the landscape. Ryan estimated that they had been driving for around forty minutes when they pulled up into a clearing at the edge of some cliffs that looked down over a hundred foot drop. The sky was touched with pink as the four Spartans and their escorts dismounted the vehicles, stiff from the bumpy ride. The ONI officer approached a set of steel doors built out of the turf and opened them with the use of an iris scanner. Well oiled pistons hissed and lights thumped into glaring brightness as he led the small group down into a high tech armoury.

"If you'll follow me we'll get you all suited up as quick as we can."

Ryan moved ahead of the pack and was the first into the side room which the spook had pointed out. Inside were five suits of green armour which had been laid out neatly. Callum whistled and Ryan was forced to agree. He had been wounded while on operations almost two years ago, when the mark IV armour was still in use and so had missed out on the new shielded variant. But this new stuff looked even more high tech. Two technicians that Daniel hadn't noticed before stepped forward and began to prep him. The spook spoke quickly as the two men worked, obviously somewhat pleased with himself.

"As you know the mark V armour was introduced just prior to the fall of Reach six weeks ago. The new shielding system represented a breakthrough for us in terms of military engineering, putting our soldiers on par with the Elites of the Covenant forces. These are mark VI Mjolnir powered combat suits and are superior in almost all respects to the mark V. For instance the armour itself has been streamlined and lightened, allowing for increased mobility, and the recharge time for the shielding has been cut down, at a slight cost to overall power."

The two technicians moved on to Jen, leaving Ryan to finish on his own. In around ten minutes all four Spartans were ready and making final adjustments to their suits. The two bodyguards had moved outside, along with the other two regular marines leaving just the two technicians and the spook with the super soldiers. The main area of the armoury held enough equipment to outfit a platoon of ODSTs. With explosives, survival supplies and other more high tech, non standard issue gear as well as weapons and ammo. Unanimously the Spartans went for the guns first, prioritising ammunition over other supplies. A soldier can fight for three days without water, but isn't going to last three minutes without ammo.

Ryan and Mark went for the new battle rifles, as well as a shotgun which Mark slung over his broad shoulders. Jen favoured an assault rifle and plenty of grenades while Callum chose a sniper rifle. He was an excellent shot, not the best of the Spartans but well above average in a group that was at worst, able to blow the hinges off a barn door at three hundred yards. Almost thirty five minutes after entering the building, enough firepower to stop the Covenant in its tracks walked back out. Slinging his rifle on his back, Ryan pulled on his visored helmet, obscuring his cold blue eyes behind the bronzed surface. Three other visors looked impassively back at him under the dawn sky. Sorrow wasn't going to fall without a fight.

* * *

**Authors Comment: Just putting up another chapter to get the word count up. I know people dont like to read stories that dont seem to be going anywhere.**


	3. Chapter 3: Fierce

"_On and on shall old war go,  
Without respite my blood will flow  
__O'er your eyes 'til they cannot see  
The impossibility of victory."_

- Sanghelli battle hymn

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
****Sorrow  
****Orbital Station **_**'Adama' **_**Generator  
****0639 hours Sorrow time**

The first phantom dropship to approach the generator complex was torn apart in mid air as the anti aircraft chain guns opened up. Firing almost a thousand high explosive rounds a minute the alien craft was sheared almost in two before a detonation tore its engines apart, turning it into debris in a split second. The second banked to the left and escaped total annihilation, instead the stream of gunfire can-openered the left side and sent it pin wheeling down to earth in a shredding ball of fire and metal. The remaining ships changed their approach vectors and sped over the marines in their fire positions, causing a cheer to go through their ranks. Lieutenant Gilburt just shook her head. It would take a lot more than that to dissuade the Covenant.

"Biggs, talk to me. How long until we can expect contact and how long until we're ready?"

Her radio crackled for a moment before her second in command answered.

"Forward positions are reporting movement now; I've got the AA guns wrapped up as tight as I can, its all on you and the generators."

Gilburt nodded even though he couldn't see her and broke the contact. It would begin soon.

Two dozen Covenant soldier moved quickly towards the human positions. The diminutive Grunts being herded forwards by their larger officers while Jackals darted along the flanks with their shields held ready. At three hundred metres Sergeant Ball opened fire with his .30 cal. Bullets tore up the ground, scattering alien warriors left and right but leaving at least three down. Ball grinned and adjusted his aim, sending a stream of tracer thudding into an Elite's chest. The tall alien roared in pain as the bullets ripped though its body and dropped it to the ground, kicking like a horse. Ball made another two kills with his weapon before one of the Grunts got lucky with a plasma grenade and his position disappeared in a haze of azure. The Covenant loped forwards over his body towards the defences.

"Fire, fire, fire!"

Gilburt didn't know how long she had been shouting, but it felt like hours. Next to her three marines raised themselves above the lip of the trench and fired until their magazines clicked empty before dropping back down. One of them was missing a head. Accurate return fire pummelled them and without waiting for an order the group relocated, sprinting left along the trench and fumbling to reload. Gilburt went the opposite way, scrambling over the bodies of soldiers to reach the forward command post.

Inside the air was thick with smoke and noise as three militiamen put the heavy machinegun mounted in the vision slit to good use. Gilburt moved through without looking to either side.

"Fire superiority!" She bellowed into her radio, "Keep their heads down."

It was easier said than done. The elites were born and bred for battle. They wore their combat harnesses like a second skin and knew how to make the best of their shields. Ducking into cover at the last possible second and driving the assault forwards while the sharp eyed Jackals made kill after kill with carbines and rifles. In a few minutes it was all but over, the hard points of the first defence line were being overrun by the superior Covenant infantry.

"Fall back to phase line Bravo, we are blowing the trenches!"

Each bunker and fire point of the primary trenches was rigged to blow following a remote order from her at the command centre. Thirty second fuses. She hit the button and turned to shout at the soldiers manning the .30 cal, just in time to see them disappear in a haze of boiling plasma as a hunter played its cannon along the firing slit. The world seemed to slow down as the sudden heat caused the air to expand explosively, hurling her backwards with the force of an explosion.

Something snapped with a stab of hot pain as the young lieutenant smashed into the far concrete wall of the dugout and crumpled in a heap at its base. Groggily she sat up, her limbs not moving as she directed them and her left arm hanging limp and useless. Her ears rang and her helmet felt like it was two sizes too small. With fumbling hands she pulled it off and breathed in a lungful of dusty, debris filled air. The front wall of the bunker was gone, blown apart along with the weapons crew and she could see the sky outside. Suddenly, shapes filled the opening, chattering in alien tongues that sent a silken tingle of terror up her spine. Her rifle was gone but her hand moved to the heavy pistol strapped to her thigh, drawing it with an effort and flicking off the safety. The first creature to drop into the bunker took a bullet to the gut and fell squealing. The second was luckier and she missed, the weapons recoil making it impossible for her to aim with only one hand. An Elite growled and stalked towards her, hand reaching to grasp her by the throat and choke her life away. With surprising clarity she turned her pistol to the side and put a bullet into a can of C4 foaming explosive which had miraculously survived the blast. Lieutenant Gilbert died along with fifteen enemy troops as the defences blew.

The survivors of the company fell back towards the AA guns and the relative safety offered by Staff Sergeant Biggs platoon. Dashing through the open as the Covenant opened fire, dropping over half of them. Biggs fired his rifle like the rest of his men, clipping a bird-like alien and sawing off its arm. He gritted his teeth and adjusted his aim, blowing its head apart in a spray of gore. Switching targets he sighted and pulled the trigger, only to hear a dull snap. Swearing fluently he dropped bellow the low concrete emplacement of the guns and groped at his webbing, fingers searching out a fresh magazine. The humans were red-lining on ammo and he couldn't find one. Corporal Wallace slid in next to him and proffered a magazine before raising himself up to fire. Biggs snapped the magazine into its housing and chambered a round. His life was measured in bullets rather than time and he was going to make every one count.

Wallace squeezed off a tight burst that studded across an Elite's midsection, popping its shields and tearing through its flesh. He grinned and pulled the trigger again. Bright blue light lit his body for a moment as a round punched through his shoulder, then another through the left side of his chest, pitching the man onto his back as he thrashed around, blood welling up in his throat and bubbling out of his mouth as he screamed in agony. Biggs abandoned his weapon and threw himself onto Wallace, shouting for a medic as he tried to apply pressure to his wounds. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, making his mouth water even as he fought to keep the Corporal alive. A Corpsman dragged himself over, one leg trailing behind him. He took over and Biggs sat back, only realising after a few seconds that the medic had taken plasma burns to his legs that would most likely necessitate amputation. But what did it matter, they weren't going to live that long anyway, the man had filled himself up with morphine and was doing his job.

Biggs went back to his position, shouldering his fallen rifle and raising himself over the lip of the scarred revetment. There were barely enough marines alive to hold the enemy back and no sign of the Lieutenant. He realised with a touch of sadness that she was probably dead and nothing more than cooked meat by now. He searched for a target through his scope but saw only the blue hull of a Covenant tank. Ducking back down he screamed;

"Wraith!"

There was only a moment until the vehicle fired its main weapon and obliterated the emplacement, leaving the marines with a choice. Some rose and charged the alien guns, roaring in defiance even as accurate fire tore them to pieces before they got more than a few steps. The rest covered their heads and curled up into a foetal balls as the tank took aim and sent a round directly into the gun pits, putting every one of them out of action. Dead or wounded it made no difference. The AA guns fell silent and the first interceptor swept in, delivering a payload of missiles to the generators and destroying them. Above Sorrow, the running lights of the orbital stations blinked out one by one as they were boarded by assault teams or had their generators taken out. The Covenant fleet moved in for the kill.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
****Sorrow  
****ONI Bunker Kilo One  
****0701 hours Sorrow time**

Ryan surveyed his Spartans. None of them were officially ready for active duty. Mark had almost died on Reach when he had taken a hard drop badly and suffered severe internal injuries as a result. Callum had lost a chunk of his leg during a boarding action three months ago and was only half way through his rehabilitation course. Jen had been rammed by a ghost and practically crippled. The doctors had said she would never recover, but she had never given up and had proved them all wrong. While he had been too slow getting out of the way of a plasma grenade and suffered burns to over 60% of his body. It took regular steroids and powerful pain killers to keep him on his feet. In short, they were super soldiers made up of spare parts and held together by spit and prayers. The walking dead, who were being asked to stand up and take their place in the battle line again.

"What's that noise?" Mark asked.

Everyone froze. Sure enough a faint roaring sound was washing through the clearing. Like wind in trees a few kilometres away. At first only the Spartans could hear, but then even the unaugmented hearing of the others picked it up.

"Banshee." Jen stated with finality.

The two techies panicked and both sprinted in opposite directions while the two body guards started hustling the spook back towards the bunker, eyes frantically scanning the tree tops for the first sight of the alien flyers. One of the marines who was still sitting in the driver's seat of one of the warthogs gunned his engine and moved the vehicle into the thicker foliage around the bases of the trees. Maybe five minutes ago this would have been prudent. But the aircraft was too close now and there were another two jeeps to move. Less than five seconds later the Banshee swooped into sight, flying low and fast parallel to the route that the group had taken on the ground. In an instant it spotted them and curved around, faster than any human vehicle could have, pointing its twin cannons at those still in the open.

As one unit the Spartans opened fire, scattering in all directions as they hammered ineffectually at the armoured flyer with their weapons. A marine fell as the craft opened fire. Burning plasma tore up the leaf mould and punched through one of the technicians before it passed overhead, coming back around for another sweep. Ryan didn't give it the chance. With a gesture he sent Mark sprinting to the fallen marine as he dashed towards the Warthog with the mounted gun. Flinging his rifle down he swung himself up and grabbed the handles of the weapon, dragging it around to face the aircraft as it began to fire again. Twin lines of searing fury stitched across the ground towards him. Gritting his teeth the wiry Spartan sighted the heavy weapon and squeezed the trigger, feeling the weapon judder as it cycled up to full speed. Unleashing a hail of high explosive rounds that shredded the wing of the Banshee. The pilot panicked and tried to roll sideways to escape the deadly stream of bullets, but went the wrong way, across Ryan's sights, correcting his aim for him and mangling his craft. The Banshee hit the ground and bounced, then its remaining wing caught the earth and it cart-wheeled over the edge of the cliff, leaving nothing but a few smoking craters and the moaning of the injured marine to mark its passing.

"Watch out, his buddy's coming in fast." Callum murmured, his voice loud in Ryan's ear over the comm.

The second Banshee roared in low, its distinctive wail loud in the human's ears. Ryan tried to hit it with the gun but it was moving to fast. At the last moment he flung himself clear of the vehicle as plasma hit the Warthog and his shields flared, but held. Then it was gone, sweeping away to the west. A minute passed, then two, before the humans emerged from cover, weapons held ready. Ryan stood up from behind the jeep where he had dropped in case the flyer had come back. Callum raised himself from the shadows at the foot of a tree and Jen appeared as if from nowhere at Mark's side, instantly assessing the wounded marine.

"He's fading fast. Hand me the spare can of biofoam in my right thigh compartment."

Ryan blanked out their voices and walked to the edge of the cliff, looking after the departing banshee. The sun was truly up now, dissipating the early morning mist and giving him a view that stretched for miles. The faintest sound of movement reached his ears and he didn't need to turn to know that Callum was standing next to him.

"That Banshee is trouble. I'm guessing it has friends in the area close enough to ruin our day real fast."

Ryan nodded.

"Why sit around here waiting for them to show up? Gather everybody who's still breathing together and load them into the two transport hogs, we'll take the one with the gun."

Callum grinned under his helmet.

"You got a plan Chief?"

Ryan turned and stalked back to the hog, slinging his weapon onto his back.

"Yeah, let's go crash a party."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4: Clear Down

"_The MA5C was made specifically for use by the marines. It carries thirty two 3.08 calibre bullets in the magazine, has a fire rate of 600 rounds per minute and weighs 4.1 kilograms when fully loaded. On top of this it is reliable, easy to maintain and accurate at close to medium ranges. In short, you can drag it through mud, blood and shit, beat a grunt's skull in with it and it will still kill whatever you point it at." _

- Unknown Sergeant to Colonial Militia recruits on the finer points of their issued weapons.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
****Sorrow Low Orbit  
****UNSC Destroyer '**_**Hood'  
**_**0732 hours Sorrow time**

On the far side of Sorrow the evacuation fleet made the jump into slipspace. Now that the orbital cannons were out of action the Covenant were moving in amongst the human fleet. Taking advantage of their superior shielding to close range and destroy the UNSC ships before they could bring shipboard MAC's to bear or successfully deploy Shiva nuclear warheads. Captain Arthur folded his hands behind his back and tried to breathe the panic out of his voice before giving his orders. Only fifty thousand civilians had been successfully loaded when the transports made their jump, which left a lot on the surface. Sorrow was a sparsely populated mining world, but there were still over a ten million soul's planetside with all kinds of hell about to rain from the sky. In a few moments he made his decision and stood that much taller on the command deck as he had been taught so long ago at the academy.

"_For every easy decision you have to make as captain, there will be ten that will keep you up for hours wondering whether you made the right call. That is a luxury that you have. The men and women under your command do not. They can never know that you have any doubt about your orders or the command structure will fall apart. So always stand tall and look your officers in the eye. Speak strong to keep __**them**__ strong."_

He smiled ruefully before snapping his orders out in the tone that had been drilled into them on the first day.

"All hands to action stations, bring the MAC gun up and prep Longsword's for launch. Navigation, give me a course projection around the planet that gives us the maximum time in Sorrow's shadow. We are going in fast and silent."

The crew moved fast, veterans of a dozen battles they knew their roles well and did them without fuss. In a moment the lights went down, to be replaced with a dull red glow that signalled the ship was at full combat readiness. Captain Arthur hit the engage key and the massive engines of the Hood powered the vessel towards Sorrow's northern pole, using the planet's gravity to slingshot them around giving them the speed necessary to survive their attack run.

"ETA: Seven point four minutes and falling."

The clipped tone of the helmsman sounded across the bridge and Arthur snarled silently. He was determined to get at least one of the enemy ships before they killed him. The sound of boots brought him snapping around to see the wiry frame of Major George Heath in full combat gear. The man saluted and he returned it, turning back to the operations screen which showed the progress of the battle.

"Sir, I doubt that me and my boys will be of any use to you. The Covies don't look like they're boarding our ships. I guess what I'm saying is; Permission to put boots on the ground. We can do a lot more good down there than up here."

Arthur nodded slowly.

"Granted Major. Make them bleed for every inch of our soil."

The ODST saluted again and hurried away, leaving the bridge crew to their tasks.

Heath walked quickly through the bowels of the ship, his boots making the deck grating sing. He was a tall man, with the distinctive jarhead hair of an ODST and a wiry, almost lanky frame. But everyone he served with knew that there wasn't an inch of give in him. He reached the hanger bay and stalked over to the small gathering of his officers.

"Load 'em up, we're going in."

One of the more enthusiastic Lieutenants piped up.

"Feet first into hell, hoo-ah!"

Heath clapped the man on the shoulder and the group broke up, shouting orders to their units. They were all bravado. ODST's were the best of the best and they knew it. Later, amidst the killing and the dying and the mind numbing, terrifying blur of combat all the gung ho slogans would disappear. But let them compare dicks for now. Lights blinked on and the smooth, calm voice of a woman spoke a pre recorded message.

"Prepare to drop."

Wolf whistles and whoops filled the hanger as the soldiers climbed into the bulky HEV which would take them into combat. One man raised his hand in farewell.

"Later sexy voice."

Then he was gone. Heath followed suit and strapped himself in, bringing up the console commands with a few key strokes. The Hood swung low over the planet and came into sight of the Covenant fleet shooting. A MAC round tore clean through an enemy frigate, blowing debris out in a hundred mile streak of glittering sliver before bright blue flame consumed the vessel in an expanding fireball that left nothing but scattered molecules behind. The green light buzzed to life and Heath hit the drop key. Sending his company spilling out of the human ship seeds blown from a dandelion.

Behind them the Hood took a hit to her flank and was twisted out of shape, the MAC gun bending uselessly as the massive heat warped the ship. But she wasn't dead yet. Archer missile pods vomited fire as they launched dozens of projectiles at the swarming covenant ships, creating blooming explosions as their operators guided them into priority targets. Another plasma missile struck home, shearing the top of the ship away in a burning explosion. Crippled now, the Hood span in the vacuum, its weapons silenced. Aboard the bridge Captain Arthur bellowed for full power and slammed the engines into drive. Ramming a cruiser head on and crumpling his destroyed into a twisted hulk as the atmosphere ignited and burned out in a split second. The remaining human ships beat a weary retreat, falling one by one until only a handful remained to make the jump to safety. The orbital battle was over after almost two hours.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
****Sorrow  
****Three Kilometres west of ONI Bunker Kilo One  
****0728 hours Sorrow time**

The warthog roared over the ridge and down through the light forest, bumping over a dirt track that followed the path that the banshee had taken. Ryan was driving with Callum riding shotgun and Mark on the rear gun. They had sent Jen back with the Marines to secure the CPRF against attack. The radio set on the jeep burst into life and the voice of the ONI Spook came through, distorted slightly by the thick foliage.

"Spartan team this is CPRF, message over."

Callum gave the correct reply and the man started to speak.

"The only objective worth hitting in the direction the bogey was heading is a subspace transmitter relay station about ten clicks to your twelve o'clock. That must be where he was heading, assuming of course that he didn't change direction once losing sight of us."

The sniper linked his helmet mike with the radio and spoke.

"Affirmative CPRF, set us a waypoint, we are en route. What's the significance of this station?"

"The station boosts radio signals meant for long range transmission through subspace, to other UNSC held planets for example. Using the data from the computers, a smart techie could get hold of the coordinates of any planet that a transmission has been sent to in the past twenty four hours. Considering that the arrival of a Covenant fleet is big news, you can bet your balls that there are some pretty important planets on those computers, even Earth."

Callum nodded.

"So we get there, take out the Covenant and initiate the Cole protocol if it is not already in place?"

The Spook replied in the affirmative and Callum shut off the radio. They had broken clear of the forest and were now moving quickly over grassy fields that were only just starting to be reclaimed by nature, with the cliff stretching along to their right. The nav beacon blinked into life on Ryan's HUD and he guided the jeep along the rocky foot of the protrusion, searching for a break that would allow him to reach it. Mark spotted one and pointed, giving him time to turn smoothly into the opening and race up the canyon, wheels burning as he pushed the vehicle to its limits. Callum's sharp eyes saw something glint out in front and he gasped.

"Mine!"

The Spartan in the driver's seat jerked the steering wheel around in a desperate attempt to avoid it, but it was too late. The warthog skidded sideways and passed over the concealed device, triggering it. The explosion caught the underside of the hog and flipped it, sending it cart wheeling along the canyon floor. Fortunately, Spartan's have faster reactions than any normal human could hope to have and they acted fast. Mark flung himself clear off the back of the vehicle, landing on his feet near the beginning of the crash while Callum managed to drag himself out of the side seat and jump clear an instant before it rolled onto him. Ryan was not so lucky, the driver's compartment slammed into the dirt and he felt himself take the blow on his shoulder and upper back. His seatbelt snapped and the jeep kept rolling, tearing his helmet off and leaving him crumpled on the ground.

Ringing filled Ryan's ears as he pushed himself to his knees. His vision was blurry and his limbs were shaking, but through long experience he knew that the effects would pass in a moment. With sluggish movements he managed to look up and saw his helmet lying a few feet away, visor looking directly at him. Slowly he got to his feet on shaky legs and took a faltering step towards it. There was a whizz-snap as a beam rifle fired and something heavy crashed into him, knocking him to the side sharply. For the second time in twenty seconds Ryan found himself eating dirt. He glanced to see what had hit him and felt his breath get snatched away. Mark was down on one knee, a hand clasped at a neat hole in his stomach. He had thrown himself into Ryan, knocking him clear but taking the shot in the process.

"Mark!"

Ryan willed his limbs into action and scrambled to his feet. There was another shot and the big Spartan fell sideways as a blue lance of light sliced through his chest plate, right above his heart. Ryan knew he was dead, but tried to reach him anyway, only to get dragged back into cover by Callum at the last moment.

"Ryan, get a grip! I can dust this fucker but I need your help. You're the rabbit, draw him out so I can get a clear shot."

The dark haired Spartan nodded and took a runner's stance. At a nod from Callum he sprinted towards Mark's body, heels kicking up spurts of grit as he reached Olympic speeds in a split second. The Covenant sniper popped up, tracking him with his rifle. Callum breathed out and squeezed his trigger, unzipping the Elite's head with a sabot round to free a cloud of purple mist. The alien's body collapsed backwards and jerked spastically as the spinal column received garbled signals from the destroyed brain. The Spartan sniper inhaled and checked for other targets, but there were none.

"Clear up."

There was no reply from the Chief.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5: Corpsman Forward

"_The campaign waged by UNSC forces on Sorrow was the turning point in the war. They lacked the strength, both technologically and numerically to face the Covenant head to head and after the rout of the fleet early on in the conflict, the ground troops were not able to be supplied by air. In the face of these crippling weaknesses the UNSC was unable to fight a modern war, instead falling back on tactics it had encountered during the struggle for unification. Guerrilla fighting that had first been successfully implemented during the late 20__th__ century. Small numbers of troops, in several cases assisted by Spartan super soldiers, fought and died over supply points and landing zones, anything that would damage the Covenant war effort. The principles employed on Sorrow were later used successfully to defend Earth, making it one of the most important battles of the war."_

Eric Stratton in his book **'Sorrow: Forgotten Victory'**

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
****Sorrow  
****Three Kilometres west of ONI Bunker Kilo One  
****0731 hours Sorrow time**

Callum slung his rifle and walked over to where Mark lay. Ryan was crouched next to him, unmoving as he gazed down at the body of his friend. From a young age the Spartans had been trained not to fear death, it was something that they had all come to terms with. The fact of the matter was that they would all die a violent death. It was in their nature. They were weapons, created to fight. Fear just slowed you down, made you an easier target. But still, the blonde Spartan couldn't even guess at what was going through his friend's mind.

"Ryan, you ok?"

The other man didn't answer. Instead he reached down and removed Mark's helmet, revealing his dark face with its glazed eyes. With slow hands he closed the lids and lifted the visored helmet, putting its forehead against his. For a few moments there was silence. Then he placed the piece of equipment on Marks chest and activated the fail safes.

"Let's go."

Ryan turned and walked away, leaving a confused Callum to follow in his wake.

"Chief…"

The thin Spartan span around, his anger showing even though his face was hidden.

"I said lets go!"

That was it, the subject was dropped. A few kilometres away they called a halt and started to get tactical. No doubt there would be a large number of Covenant at the relay station, if that was indeed where they were headed and the two Spartans would need an edge if they were going to come out on top. Callum smeared his armour with mud and foliage, creating a crude but effective camouflage while Ryan checked his weapon and ammunition. Then they were ready.

They moved out silently and ghosted throughout he light forest until the station came into sight. There were two Elites in sight; one on the roof, shifting bodies by throwing them out over the edge to form a rough pile and another performing a check on a banshee. It looked like this was where their attacker had been headed. Light rain started to fall, increasing in ferocity quickly. Ryan moved back a few metres and spoke.

"If we wait for this storm to roll in, it'll give me cover to get close. Move around to the north and see if you can fin a good vantage point over the entrance."

Callum nodded and moved away. The storm would interfere with visuals but his rifle was equipped with a powerful optics suite and could compensate for him. Elite HUD's however, didn't have that advantage.

* * *

**December 01, 2552  
****Sorrow  
****New Dublin  
****0800 hours Sorrow time**

In the heart of New Dublin men were dying. The soldiers of the Colonial Militia were not going to let the Covenant into their homes while they were still living. On Main Street three Scorpion battle tanks held up the alien advance for an hour before a cruiser in orbit fired a torpedo and demolished them and six city blocks, leaving nothing but a fused crater to mark the crews' passing. The Covenant rolled on into the city proper.

Corpsman Daniel Walker covered his head with his hands and brought his knees up to his chest as twin detonations rocked the building his squad was sheltering in. A wave of hot, choking dust and splinters washed past him as the window sill by his head disintegrated. The marine next to him switched his rifle to full auto and sprayed a magazine in the general direction of the enemy without looking, causing another volley of plasma fire to hammer the walls in retaliation. Daniel just kept his head covered and concentrated on not shitting himself with fear.

"Corpsman!"

The voice was quiet against the roar of combat. But Daniel's trained ears picked it out and got him moving. On his hands and his knees he crawled back towards a stairwell which had been blown out, allowing access into the street where two dozen men were trying to hold back the alien aggressors. With the strange crouching sprint of an experienced soldier he made a dash for the barricades and slid in beside a Sergeant who had lost an eye to plasma. The superheated gas had parboiled the left side of his face, bursting the eyeball and sending it trickling down his face, oozing from his sealed eyelid.

"You call for a medic?"

The man shook his head and pointed down the line, to where a young man was waving frantically. Daniel clapped him on the shoulder and moved away, sliding through a shell hole and scrambling over an open spot in the defences to reach the man who had been calling. A glance told him that he was addressing an officer, but at this point, it didn't really matter.

"What?"

The Lieutenant pointed out, down the street towards where the enemy had taken cover. Daniel could just see the shiny blue hues hull of a heavy tank inching its way around the corner to get an angle on the defenders. The officer saw it too and swore, gesturing frantically to a man who held a SPNKr launcher, then turned back to Daniel as the soldier sent a rocket at the tank. Blowing rubble into the air and ricocheting off the machines hull, persuading its driver to get out of the line of fire.

"I've got three marines needing a medic, they've marked their position as being about thirty feet out to the front of our line in a blown out car, there."

Daniel's limited HUD gave him the position and highlighted the vehicle when he looked at it. Just in sight was a booted leg, held awkwardly so that it wouldn't make a target for any Jackal snipers that were hanging around on the rooftops. Daniel felt the fingers of terror tighten like a steel vice around his stomach. Someone would have to go to them. Someone would have to run out, in front of all those guns, with a heavy bag full of medical supplies and get to those marines who were waiting to be saved. Those marines who had always been told that a corpsman would come for them, no matter what. Someone was going to get killed trying to reach them. Not just someone, him.

The blood drained from his face but he nodded to the other man and started to climb over the parking barrier they were crouched behind. Two plasma bolts scorched the ground a moment before his foot touched it and he resigned himself to death before swinging his body into the line of fire. Everything was quiet and still, the air charged with tension, it only lasted for a moment but to Daniel it felt like hours. Then, in a slow motion, string puppet kind of way the world came back and he took a plasma round to the chest.

The sensation was something akin to when, as a fifteen year old, he had been punched in the face. There was no immediate pain, only the sensation of impact. The strength left his legs and he collapsed forwards, using his hands to break his fall and cutting them up on the concrete in the process. He remembered the dull throb of pain in his mouth and how he had lifted his fingers to his lips and probed inside the warm, fleshy mess that was his mouth to find two broken teeth. Mimicking his teenage self he rolled onto his back and raised his trembling hands to feel the front of his uniform. The protective vest was a mangled wreck, hot to the touch. He couldn't feel any pain in his chest, but that didn't mean anything. Daniel had seen enough wounds to know that plasma would cauterise flesh and destroy nerve endings. You could lose an arm and barely feel it. Gathering his courage he looked down and almost sighed with relief. His body armour had taken the impact and he was more or less unharmed.

Getting up on his hands and knees he could see where the wounded marines were holed up. Gunfire whizzed and spat around him but for the first time in years, Daniel felt no fear. Being shot had burned away his terror leaving only a kind of suicidal elation. If he was going to be hit, he would be hit. In the mean time he had a job to do. Exploding upwards from a runner's crouch he covered the distance in an instant, sliding the last few feet like a batter getting a home run. A kid no more than nineteen years old looked up at him with his guts in his hands, eyes pleading for Daniel to save him. Priority case. Another marine had been hit in the thigh, low down near the knee and was bleeding heavily. The third man was dead. His injuries were lacerations caused by an explosion but as he had lain in cover a lucky shot had clipped off the back of his head, giving him a vacant, glazed expression that Daniel found disconcerting.

"Put pressure here."

Daniel moved quickly, instructing the woman to grip her thigh tightly while he made a simple tourniquet from a scrim scarf he had round his neck. That would keep her alive while he dealt with the more serious injury. The kid was panicking, choking on his own blood as he tried desperately to snatch deep breaths. Daniel pushed his head back to lean against the body of the car they were hiding behind as he scooped up organs and pushed them back inside the torn shell of the young man's body.

"Don't look at it. You'll be fine. There's a lot of blood but it isn't bad."

He lied fluently as he pressed a field dressing down on the horrific wound and jabbed a morphine pipette into the kid's arm. Even with proper medical attention a wound like that was fatal seventy percent of the time and the best in the way of care the wounded marine could hope for was a patch of cold floor in a makeshift aid post. Daniel didn't expect him to see sunrise tomorrow. The medic realised that there was no way he could carry the boy back to the cover offered by the platoon, he would need a stretcher or any attempt to move him would have his intestines spilling out again.

"Ok, just stay here, keep your head back and take deep slow breaths. I'm gonna get your corporal out of here and then I'm coming back for you."

The man nodded, his eyes full of pain and fear. Daniel gave his shoulder a squeeze and swung the woman over his back, eliciting a grunt of pain. At little more than a jog he scrambled back towards the marines who put down covering fire and screamed at him to hurry up. Tumbling over the defences he propped the woman up and started back, but hands clawed at his uniform and dragged him down.

"Doc, you can't go back out there, its suicide!"

He struggled for a few seconds before getting free and diving over the barricade. The Covenant were getting bolder and accurate fire came his way, forcing him to crawl forwards on his belly. The wounded marine was reaching for him when the wrecked car exploded in a ball of blue tinged fire. Daniel covered his head with his hands as burning debris pattered down around him like rain.

* * *

**Authors Comment: Well, thats another character introduced. Ive got a lot of idea about whats going to happen to him, I hope you'll enjoy them. Anyways, my exams are coming up so I wont be updating frequently for the next month or so. But after that there's a long summer so I'll get some writing done then.**


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